


Like or Like, Like

by mongoosling



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, M/M, Pining, Powerless AU, Shiro has commitment issues, Slow Build, kuroh is pretty, no one wants to admit that they have a crush, shiro is lowkey stalker-y
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 01:37:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13447767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mongoosling/pseuds/mongoosling
Summary: What’s the difference between lust and love? Two concepts Shiro should have clarified before involving anyone else in the shipwreck of his life. And yet attraction can’t be helped. Beneath that grumpy exterior there's a chance that his gorgeous next door neighbor actually likes him back.





	Like or Like, Like

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a WIP I have, it is incomplete, but I have a good idea of where I want this to go. Inspired loosely off a song by the miniature tigers for which the fic is named. Also.. It’s not my intention to be creepy in this story, but just to save people from discomfort Shiro makes some questionable choices.
> 
> Side note: Apparently I have thing for Kuroh swimming in lakes (DEFINITELY an attraction inspired by the Stray Dog installment of the the manga. Stay tuned for more skinny dipping in future fics ahah).

Noticing -- 

The widening of Shiro’s eyes was accompanied by a barely suppressed gasp. He tumbled back in an awkward lump. A self-inflicted dumping of his body, a cowardly heap crouched behind a bush.

The young man who stood by the shore appeared nearly ethereal in the glow of sunrise. His hair, long and billowing in an early breeze. The lazy sun climbed the sky, promising a warmth that had not yet penetrated the lingering screen of night. The teasing warmth reflected orange and pink across the mirror surface of a lake. 

Shiro wasn’t entirely certain if it was a product of dawn or his dragging allnighter. For no good reason other than a whim, he’d stayed out all night, roaming the territory of his home, collecting the dew of early morning. He wasn’t sure at which point the turf had blended into that of the Miwa residence, but the cascading sound of a rushing waterfall had not warned him off. Instead, he trudged on, imagining a man in black meditating in the clear air of the country, desperate for discipline, serene in his natural habitat. 

The vision struck him so vividly, he did not immediately realize that the object of his fantasies was actually standing several paces ahead of him.

A single hot breath burst in his lungs, and he jumped with the realization. 

The earth thudded softly under his weight as he tumbled. It was Shiro’s irrefutable belief that Kuroh Yatogami had no business looking so handsome. So damn handsome, he was compelled to sneak another peak, crouching and peering over the pointed stems of his hiding spot. 

Kuroh was posing by the water, actually posing-- contorting himself from shape to shape, a slow flow like the rush of water, practicing some stimulating exercise of the southeast --his neighbor often stressed the importance of regular exercise. That was what the display had to be. Exercise! Shiro maintained his observation with addictive fascination. Kuroh was barefoot where he stood, bending towards his slender ankles, similarly exposed to the elements as his donned robes rode up against the stretch. His body was an even line, strung parallel to the horizon, head bent, arms flexed, like a humble warrior. At last, Kuroh straightened with the puff of one deep breath. Wind caught in his long ponytail as he rightened his posture, his back to Shiro, facing off with the surface of the lake. It was a captivating vision, that stunning young man greeting the break of day with an expression of pure concentration on his face. 

A perplexing experience, Shiro could not bring himself look away, as the thundering of his heart compelled him to run.

He peered on, breath ungainly, snatched away as the cloth of Kuroh’s robe seemed to fold in one swift motion. It slid from one shoulder then the other, exposing a pale sheet of skin, instantly died orange in the light. A muscular back revealed capturing dark hair in the sharp angles of its lines. Shiro’s lips and tongue cracked dry as he watched the unprecedented display. Kuroh reached to unlace the ties of his trousers, then they dropped to the grassy shore. A thin cloth of stark white protected the remaining shard of Kuroh’s modesty. Shiro relented that this was not a sight ment for his prying eyes, his face red hot, feet like molten lead sinking into the ground. He couldn’t pry himself away from the exhibition, the generally modest young man stripping so casually. Shiro rocked in a subconscious lean forward, gaze tracing Kuroh’s fingers as they dipped teasingly to adjust the constricting waistband of his underwear, clinging to his lean hips. 

It too was shed in one swift motion.

One foot forward. There was hardly any splash as he dove, taking off in a confident freestyle stroke, breaking the surface of the water, and the loaded silence he’d inadvertently inspired.

Shattered--

Shiro bolted off back home. Startled into motion, hoping to retreat before the other boy could notice him -- and slaughter him for his blatant intrusion.

….

Shiro ambled down the street, munching on a cracker pulled from a rustling sack. It was his sad haul for the day, he’d approached the supermarket with entirely different intentions, but a shortage of small change cut that plan short. 

Oh, he’d said like a fool, Just the crackers then. And the lady behind the counter had glared at him with a permanent hatred in her eyes. He’d wasted her time, chuckled awkwardly before retreating with the snack clutched in his hands. He’d watched through the monitor projecting from the security camera as she hung the modest little box of contraceptives back onto the peg from which it came. 

Shiro thoroughly examined one of the crackers, pale but for the zesty powder that coated it, then he popped it in his mouth and chewed at it, the crunching penetrated the area, defeated in its nature. He couldn’t explain the motivation for the attempted purchase, except that he knew his pride had hung in the balance. It had taken him long enough to pick the right size, to settle on the brand, not fully aware before that moment how many options there were to consider. All the while, the lady behind the counter had watched, her impatience festering as the seconds dragged on.

And what had possessed him?

“Yashiro Isana!”

The young man’s pulse sparked in an instant, and he felt a creeping heat rise along his neck and ears, along with an irrational urge to toss the pack of crackers to the nearest bush, as if it were some kind of lascivious contraband. 

Shiro turned on his heels, to face that voice calling his name like an accusation, already rich with the assumption that he was breaking some rule.

“Is that you, Kuroh?” he bluffed.

Kuroh progressed with a familiar look on his face, eyebrows furrowed and glare penetrating. He stopped a few paces away, looking him over. Oxygen suddenly seemed a rare commodity as he panicked. Had he been wrong to assume that he’d gotten away with it? Was it all over, his perverse behavior unearthed? Shiro gulped, wide eyed, pinned by that stare.

There were groceries clutched in Kuroh’s hands, and Shiro realized with dawning horror that they had to be coming from the same store.

“Are you up to no good, Yashiro?”

“What?” Shiro floundered only to be further appraised by Kuroh’s penetrating eye. Somehow he seemed bigger up close. Taller, and bulkier with those robes traded in for a familiar black jacket. Shiro became keenly aware that this was a man who trained diligently in various martial arts, most impressively the craft of swordsmanship. 

“You shouldn’t loiter like that. Such uselessness disturbs the community,” there did not appear a deeper accusation in those words. Somehow Shiro’s guilt skyrocketed.

“Oh,” a hesitation. “I can help you carry those groceries back home.”

“I can manage fine on my own,” there was a subtle confusion in his voice, his eyes skirting the two bags in his hands with an unprecedented doubt.

Shiro couldn’t retain the chuckle despite his anxiety (subsiding slowly), he was so endearingly bashful. 

“Think about it. If I help you carry those home, then I’ll be doing something useful.”

There was a moment of shared silence, as Shiro wrestled with his breathing, and Kuroh’s stoicism doubled. Apparently, he was weighing pros and cons, an eyebrow quirking slightly, the only sign of his indecision. 

“If it will keep you from mischief,” relenting at last. Shiro tucked the pack of crackers into the pocket of his hoodie before reaching for one of the sacks in Kuroh’s hands. Fingers brushed lightly in the exchange slowing the rotation of the Earth for an instant, then the taller of the two retreated and all resumed as before.

He snatched back his hand in a wordless huff, setting off for home without another word. Shiro lingered for the moment, stuck, and helpless from the memory of that back in the sublime atmosphere of dawn.

“Yashiro,” the jadded snap of his voice interrupted the daydream. Guilt coiled back to remind him of his foulness. “Are you coming or not?”

**Author's Note:**

> I always appreciate feedback (especially if you liked it haha)


End file.
